Deus Caeli, Deus Terrae
by paperwingsandbrokenlegs
Summary: Rafe encouters something he knows he can't tell anyone about. Danny knows that Rafe is hiding something from him. It's a disaster waiting to happen. i suck at summaries, since the story is actually way more interesting than that. ON HIATUS.
1. Prologue

hi!

so, this is my latest fic. shoulda' known that i couldn't stay away for too long. some reviews would be nice.

_disclaimer: rafe, danny and other such characters alluded to in the movie pearl harbor belong to michael bay and/or randall wallace. i do not own anything. i do not profit in any way from writing fanfiction (in fact, i lose precious studying hours and all semblance of an active social life), so don't sue me._

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It happened on the 23rd of May 1933. As he stole an illicit kiss from Stephanie Camden hanging out of her bedroom window in the wee hours of the morning when the sky was still dark and the world asleep, Rafe never imagined that his life was about to change forever. It was to him nothing more than an exceptionally good day and his only concern was getting back home without being caught by his or her parents. Still, even the chances of being caught and grounded were not enough to dampen his mood, not when he could call the best kisser in their year his girl.

As Rafe drove down the dark, empty road that led home, he rolled down the window to allow the cool breeze to alleviate the summer heat, which Stephanie's kisses had done nothing to quench. He smiled again, thinking of her luscious lips. The sounds of the night filtered in; the dull roar or the tyres on the road, the cree-ee-eek of various glowing insects and the rustle of the ears of wheat blown by the wind. These were the sounds he had grown up with and no matter which girl he was returning from, be it Stephanie, Mary Lou or Agatha, these were the sounds that always accompanied him on his journey home.

Lulled into a state of complacency by the continuous monotony of these familiar sights and sounds, he didn't see the dark blur charging across the road until it was too late. Rafe slammed on the brakes, almost standing as he pushed the pedal to the floor of the pick-up. The truck screeched to a halt, but with an unmistakeable thump that jarred the driver's seat. And then there was silence again. Rafe released a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding and dropped his head against the steering wheel. Damn that animal. Damn him too, for not paying attention. Slowly, he exited the pick-up, shivering lightly as his adrenaline-fuelled body came down from its chemical high. For once, the warmth of the summer night was welcome.

Lying in the glare of the headlights was a large, dark shape. A pool of blood had already formed around it. At first, Rafe thought it was a smallish deer – great, he's just killed Bambi – because of its size, but as he drew closer, realised that the proportions were wrong and that its coat was far too shaggy to be that of a deer. It looked more a very large dog or a wolf, except that it was extraordinarily huge and that there hadn't been a wolf in these parts since the turn of the century.

He knelt by it, trying to figure out the best way to move the carcass off the road without getting dirty. It was sad, Rafe thought, that he was responsible for the death of such a beautiful animal. Running a hand through its soft fur, he marvelled at the defined muscles that met his hand; whatever it was, it was clearly a powerful creature. The fur that he was currently stroking would make a fine pelt. It was predominantly black, but lightened considerably towards the animal's throat and underbelly to a colour that was almost golden.

Suddenly, it growled. Startled, Rafe drew his hand away, accidentally smacking the side of its head as he did so. In a swift move that was surprisingly agile for an animal was that for all intents and purposes dead up to that point, it turned and sank its fangs into his hand. Instinctively, he snatched his hand away, but was rewarded only with the sound of snapping bone. The pain followed less than a second later. One moment he was too shocked to do anything but try to get away from the animal that was attacking him, and the next he was screaming into the night as the white-hot pain rolled over him in waves. Even the sound of his distress did not prompt the dying animal to let go; it clung to his hand with a vengeance and blood leaked out from the corners of its mouth, running over his battered hand and onto the road.

Half-furious and half-scared, Rafe used his left hand to try and force its jaw open, but only succeeded in cutting his fingers on its teeth. Now in full survival mode, he raised his free hand and punched the wolf, realising that the only way it was going to release him was if it was dead. It growled again, but its grip loosened somewhat. He hit it again, harder this time and it yelped; his hand fell free and Rafe lost no time in drawing the wounded limb away. For a short moment, they were at an impasse, man and animal, and Rafe looked into the wolf's golden eyes, hurt and scared but still aware of how beautiful they were. Then those golden orbs gave way to white as the wolf's eyes rolled; the majestic head hit the pavement with a meaty smack, a sound the graceful beast would not have made in life.

He pushed the body into the bracken by the side of the road, feeling in his heart that the animal deserved better than to be left to the mercy of scavengers, but there was nothing else he could do now. There were more urgent things to attend to, such as his completely mangled right hand; it throbbed dully, but twinged painfully every now and then as if to remind him of the fact. Even in the dim illumination provided only by his headlights and the half-moon that hung low in the sky, it was plain to see that his hand was in bad shape. It bled profusely, and Rafe was horrified to see white splinters protruding from outer edge of his palm; this was not a wound which he could plaster in a hurry and hope his parents would not notice. There was nothing he could do for it right now except bind it carefully with his outer shirt and get home before doing so ceased to be an option.

Not for the first time, Rafe thanked God that the road home was completely and totally deserted; the pick-up swayed all over the road despite his best efforts to steer left-handed. The scent of fresh blood, cloying and strong, filled the cabin and kept drawing his mind back to the mess that was his right hand. What if it couldn't be fixed? What if it remained mangled and ugly, with bits of bone jutting out everywhere? Would he ever fly again?

No, he told himself, that was one bridge he was never going to have to cross. No damn wolf was going to take that away from him.

Rafe drove as close to the house as he dared, killed the engine and watched the country house for signs of life. There were rightly none. Having gone through the ordeal of reaching home in one piece, it came as an unpleasant surprise to him how difficult it was to get back in. Where scaling the wall to the almost-attic that was his room was nothing more than a slightly dangerous climb owing to the lack of a safe landing should he fall, it was now a strenuous feat which had him panting and sweating. He only hoped that Danny was awake and would help him in – fat chance – or had found the night as warm as him and left the window open.

Luck was not on his side. The window was firmly shut and his friend was clearly asleep in his bed. Half-laughing and half-sobbing in desperation, Rafe rapped on the window; the sound seemed to carry through the stillness of the night, and he was beyond caring whether he would wake his folks. In all probability, he was going to have wake them himself soon, and whatever punishment they might want to hand out for breaking curfew paled in comparison to his injury. Danny must have been sleeping lightly, because he was up at the first knock, rubbing his eyes and grumbling under his breath.

At long last, the window opened and he crawled gratefully in, cradling his wrapped hand carefully and collapsing on the wooden floor. Danny must have realised that something was wrong, because he crouched over Rafe, forehead scrunched in concern. "Rafe, y'alright?"

"My hand," he croaked pathetically. Funny how he could move a carcass off the road, drive home and climb a two storey house all alone, but couldn't string a coherent sentence together now that Danny was here.

Danny disappeared for a moment, and came back with a flashlight. The fuzzy orange glow shone in his face for a moment and then came to a rest on his hand. The shirt that he had wrapped around it was wet and red, but he did not really feel the pain anymore and vaguely wondered if he was going into shock.

"What happened?"

"Got bitten by a big dog."

Danny was silent as he gently unwrapped the makeshift bandage, but the dim glow of the flashlight revealed his countenance to be pale. Rafe knew why; for the amount of blood that had been lost, the news could not possibly be good.

His hand was clean. It was perfectly fine; no blood, no bite marks and definitely no broken bones jutting out anywhere. Unable to believe what he was seeing, Rafe sat up and flexed his hand, fully expecting to feel the pain come rushing back. There was none. His hand was just fine in both appearance and function. "What the fuck?"

"I should be asking you that," Danny sniped. "You drunk?"

"No! Danny, I swear, half an hour ago my hand was in pieces. I…I hit a really big dog or something and it bit me before it died. The bones were sticking out and everything."

"What happened to the dog?"

"It died. After _biting me_. Weren't you listening?"

"Look, it's late. Maybe when you hit the dog, its blood got all over you and you thought it was yours. So you wrapped your bloody shirt around your perfectly fine hand and thought that it was in bad shape. Now you know it isn't."

"But-"

"It's three in the morning, Rafe. Just shut up and go to sleep." Danny slapped him on the back, trudged back to his own bed and sunk in, back turned to him.

There was nothing else he could do, seeing how his hand was apparently undamaged. Sleep should have come easily that night, but Rafe lay in the dark restlessly, the events of the night replaying on loop in his head. Could Danny have been right about his hand? As much as he wanted to believe that and as much as that was the only logical conclusion, he knew that the bite was not a figment of his imagination; that the crunch of broken bones and agony of severed tendons was not something that an overactive imagination and alcohol could simulate.

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well, don't keep me waiting now! hit that purple button and tell me what you think.


	2. Summer Secrets

hi!

well, i've got a little game to play with y'all guys. the first person who can tell me what 'deus caeli, deus terrae' means will win an honourable mention in the next chapter of the story.

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August had just rolled around, and the world as Danny knew it was sweltering. In the afternoon, no life stirred outside; even the trees seemed bent under the weight of their wilting leaves and the once-loud spring birds were silent these days. Nobody flew but the insects, merely because the plane was too hot to touch as long as the sun was up. Not that things improved much when the sun went down. The heat persisted, although it was more humid than the scorching, baking heat of the day; the kind that made you sweat and drink like a dying camel so that you could sweat it all out again. Mosquitoes attacked by the dozen at night, and three people had been hospitalised so far for malaria. The only way to fend off the disease carrying buggers was to smoke them away, which was really funny since it involved lighting a fire inside the house when the last thing they needed was more heat.

The heat also made you lazy, he realised. He had done little over the past week except lie around in any available shade, wishing he was somewhere else; somewhere much cooler, like the North Pole. There was plenty of homework to be completed before school re-opened, but damn if he was going to move right now. Even the usually industrious Mrs. MacCawley lost all will to work in the peak of summer, which meant that he was down to his last shirt. This was not something that greatly troubled him, however, since he spent most of the summer topless anyway. Right now, he was lying on the floor, trying rather unsuccessfully to sleep; one of the side effects of dozing all day in the shade was that one was hardly ever tired enough to sleep for more than an hour at a stretch. The floor, at least, was much cooler than the sheet-covered death-trap that the bed was, although why Rafe could not see that was beyond him.

The one saving grace of the season was the little lake just outside of town. To call it a lake was less than accurate, since it was in actual fact an abandoned mining pool of unknown depth. Every child and hot-blooded teenager in town was expressly warned at the onset of summer each year to stay away from the pool; a warning largely heeded after the tragic and unexpected death of the star quarterback in a swimming accident a couple of years back.

It was risky, Danny admitted, but no more so than doing a barrel roll in a crop-duster older than him or taking the shortcut to school across the railway tracks. The idea that something as easily surmountable as parental disdain could hold Rafe and him back from doing what they liked was laughable. It was a calculated risk, and one that he was certainly willing to take in these soporific days.

"Hey, Rafe, you awake?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I was thinking of going down to the lake tomorrow." He dropped his voice to a whisper, knowing that Rafe could hear him even if he couldn't see the latter from his place on the floor.

"Don't."

"What?" Rafe had never disagreed with the pool before, since he enjoyed the soak and was as unafraid of risk as Danny was.

"Uhh, I wanna go camping tomorrow."

There was something in the way he said it that felt off somehow. "Camping? Why?"

"Just feel like it."

"Where are we going?"

There was no response for a while, and he almost asked again when the quiet reply came. "Not we. I'm going camping. You're staying here, and that's why I don't want you going down to the lake tomorrow."

"You're going alone?"

"Nope. Stephanie's comin'with."

"Oh." Of course. Rafe was an incorrigible skirt-chaser these days, something sparked by his first kiss with Amanda White back when he was just 15. Danny had no doubt he would be hearing every little detail about this escapade when his friend returned; his friend loved to gloat, and this was just one of his avenues for self-glorification.

"Stay away from the lake."

"Yeah, yeah."

There was no opportunity for him to even contemplate going to the lake because Mr. MacCawley needed help with the propeller of the crop-duster; it had been giving them some problems recently, and he had finally found some spare wires to remedy the situation. At first, they tried working in the shed where she was kept, but while the heat could penetrate the wooden walls, light apparently could not. After unsuccessfully fumbling around with flashlights and very nearly getting his eye poked out by a snapped wire, Mr. MacCawley conceded defeat to the force of darkness and wheeled her out into the sun. They worked as fast as they could without running the risk of doing a slipshod job while the sun blazed down on their backs like a merciless slave-driver. When they were finally done, Mr. MacCawley retreated to the cool insides of the house, where the missus undoubtedly waited with a pitcher of iced tea like Florence Nightingale with a syringe of morphine, and he was off to the lake.

It turned out that he was hardly alone in his flouting of the rule, but the discovery of this fact was far overshadowed by the identity of the person doing the flouting. Stephanie and her younger sister were in lounging by the edge of the pool, in the proximity of an abandoned, half-submerged dredger that acted as a pier and diving board of sorts for the teens who dared to swim here. She was here, and not camping with Rafe as the latter had said she was.

"Hey, Stephanie, what are you doing here?" he called from the bank, wondering if maybe the camping trip had been cut short for whatever reason.

"Oh, we came back early because my mother couldn't tolerate my aunt any longer. God, it's so hot here."

"Huh? Where were you?" Mother? Aunt? Obviously, there was some sort of discrepancy here, unless Rafe went camping with the entire Camden family.

"Lawrence, Kansas. My aunt's family lives there and we thought we could escape the heat for awhile. Why are you still standing there anyway? And where's Rafe?"

What wouldn't he give to know? "Uhh, I dunno. He went off somewhere."

"Aren't you gonna say hi to me, Walker?" Stephanie's sister Sue Ann was his age, and Rafe and her sister had tried to set them up once, which ended with the two younger people awkwardly and morosely picking at dinner while the older two chatted endlessly and batted their eyelashes at each other.

"Hi." Stephanie was right about one thing though; what was he doing just standing there? The watery heaven was just in front of him and here he was dallying on the bank like some first-grader outside the sandbox. Danny deftly peeled off his sweaty t-shirt and tossed it aside only to hear the girls giggle; he turned around and found them staring at him with eyes that were almost hungry. Whoever said that boys were wolves had clearly never been left at the mercy of hormonal teenage girls.

Turning around so that they would not see the blush creeping up his cheeks, Danny shrugged out of his pants, thankful that he had by some stroke of luck been too lazy to change into a fresh pair of boxers from last night's sleep shorts; they was longer, thicker and most of all, black, unlike any ordinary underwear. The girls giggled again. It was one of the mysteries of the universe why boys never giggled and girls never seemed to stop. His socks and shoes were kicked off impatiently, and Danny dived into the depths of the pool, thoughtlessly revelling in the sheer ecstasy of being cold in the middle of summer. Almost reluctantly he surfaced and under the watching eyes of the girls, swam to the furthest end of the pool where the water was as dark and dangerous as a moonless night.

It was only much later, sometime after lunch when he was lounging in his room, that the problem of Rafe's deceit entered his thoughts once more. Danny used the term 'problem' loosely for two reasons; the first being that nothing untoward had occurred or was likely to, and that Rafe was entitled to have secrets. After all, his friend was hardly the type to up and disappear on whim and get into all sorts of untold trouble. This was an isolated incident.

Only, he slowly realised, it was not. Rafe was gone for two days last month under the guise of helping Thomas Decker deliver his signature moonshine to some out-of-town buyer; this had struck him as odd since Rafe was not all that friendly with Thomas to begin with, but there was sometimes as much rhyme and reason to his ideas as there was to the rain, so that incident went unnoticed. Delving deeper into the unsorted menagerie of his memories, Danny dug up another disappearance further back, where Rafe had all but vanished for a whole day. He came back looking tired, but the only explanation forthcoming was that he needed some time alone with his thoughts, something that Danny himself was all too familiar with. It appeared now, in context, that the older boy could read him all too well; good enough to have established a pattern of disturbing behaviour without raising any warning signs.

Now that he knew what to look out for, spotting the anomalies in Rafe's behaviour was so easy that it was a wonder how he might have missed them before. He returned early in the morning, when the sun was just a dull orange glow in the eastern sky and the heat had yet to fulfil its potent potential. There was nothing to herald his coming; no sound of footsteps on the stairs, no creaking of the door. For a person who had spent his whole life crashing and banging into something or rather, it was a strange turn. He looked surprised to see Danny awake.

"Hey."

"Hmm. How was the trip?"

"Oh, good." His back was turned on the pretext of putting his bag away, but Danny could see the side of his face; Rafe was smiling broadly and there was a certain spring to his step as he cantered around the room. "Awesome, in fact. Stephanie's a damn fine kisser, did I ever tell you that?"

"Only about a hundred times. Say, do you know who I met down at the lake yesterday?"

Rafe turned around so fast that Danny wondered if he got whiplash. "I told you not to go there! What were you thinking?"

Danny shrugged. "It was hot."

"Goddamnit, you could have drowned. Tell me you at least had the brains not to have gone alone."

"I wasn't alone. Guess who was there as well."

"I dunno…Ben? Dean?"

"Stephanie Camden."

Silence. Rafe stood stock still, body torn between the primal fight or flight response. Danny held his gaze and for a moment neither caved. Then Rafe broke eye contact and said "I see."

"Well, I don't. Where were you? Why'd you lie?"

"That's none of your business, Danny. You tellin' me I don't have the right to be alone for a day?"

"Yeah, that's fine, but it's the third time you've just disappeared like that. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Rafe smiled, but it was a half-sad, half-mysterious sort of smile that never led to anything good. "No, I'm not in trouble. I'm great. And it's not something I can explain to you, man, or anyone else. It's just…just one day, that's all I need. You don't have to worry about me."

Danny did not like it, not one bit, but there was nothing he could do. He would be a complete hypocrite if he said that Rafe was not allowed to have secrets, or that he should prove that he was not in any danger. He would just have to trust his friend. "Alright."

Come September, Rafe packed his duffel again, this time in full view of Danny and without offering any excuses for his behaviour. Whatever it was he did alone, Rafe clearly enjoyed it; the prospect of going had him in high spirits and he hummed a jaunty tune as he packed. The thing that half-troubled Danny this time was that it was a school night, and as much as he could understand Rafe's need to have time to himself, he doubted that their teachers would be as forgiving. How his friend's overnight trips went unnoticed by his parents he knew not, but a call from school would blow this whole thing wide open.

"There's school tomorrow."

"I know. I'll be back by then." He hoisted the duffel on one shoulder. "See ya."

Danny waited until Rafe went down the stairs to softly say "Be careful, Rafe."

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to all those who have reviewed the story; thank you and keep 'em coming!


	3. Caught!

It was a great relief not to have to cook up lies and stories to justify his outings to Danny; his friend was naturally curious and he knew that he only had so long until he saw through the charade. Truth be told, Rafe did not expect his excuse of needing time to himself to fly, but Danny was somehow open to that idea; it was almost disturbing, the way he agreed that everybody was entitled to their own secrets. What secrets could Danny possibly have that he did not know of one way or another?

Just when he thought that life was just perfect, it happened; just like surviving a hurricane to be killed by tripping over a hoe. They; Rafe, Danny and his parents, had gone to visit one of their aunts who lived a little further out of town and closer to the woods he frequented and were having lunch at one of the diners along the way. They were all in a good mood and given to talking animatedly as they waited for the diner's lone, overworked waitress to stop by their table. A few golden strands of hair had fallen out of her neatly done bun and she

"Hi y'all! I'm Julie and I'll be your waitress today." She smiled. "And tomorrow too, but not on Tuesdays 'cause that's my off day. What can I get y'all today?"

"I'll have the steak and kidney pie, and lemonade." His Pa had a weakness for any kind of pie, so his order was really no surprise.

"You get me the same thing, hon."

"Ahhh, I'll have a short stack and coffee, black." Pancakes. Rafe knew that there would be sugar in whatever Danny ordered, so it was really between this and the waffles.

"Sure thing, darlin'."

"I'd like the cheeseburger with a side of fries and water."

Engrossed as any man would be in the thought of his cheeseburger and about as alert as a fed zoo lion, Rafe was not at all prepared for what came next.

"Hey, I know you!"

He took a good look at her, racking his brains for any memory of those perpetually-pursed lips or weathered hands; it was an exercise in futility. He could no more recognise her than name the last emperor of India. "I'm sorry, I don't…"

"Hey, Bill!" she yelled loud enough for the entire diner to hear."Bill!"

A grizzled, greasy-looking man poked his head out of the kitchen and asked "What?"

"Isn't this the lad we saw that other night? The one running through 'em woods naked as the day 'e was born?"

Cherry red would be the best way to describe the colour of Rafe's face at that point; he knew how red he would be from the way his whole face felt flushed and heated. All conversation in the diner had ceased and several curious patrons were peeping over the tops of their booths to look at the source of all the commotion. His own family was staring at him speechlessly. Although being the centre of attention was something Rafe was very much used to, this was unprecedented and most certainly unwelcome for one reason; it was completely true. When and how the bitch saw him he did not know, but he would certainly be a lot more careful in the future.

"I think you've got the wrong person, ma'am. I don't live here."

"Jiminy cricket, boy, I know a fine face when I see one and I am sure that I saw you in that woods a fortnight ago."

"Hon, we've got quite a trip home, so if you don't mind getting our food now…" His Ma had a good head on her shoulders, that was for sure. The waitress pursed her lips even further and stalked off, pausing every now and again to look at him. His Pa's forehead was scrunched together, a sure sign that he was thinking. Rafe had a good idea what he was thinking about and prayed that he would not connect the dots as quickly as he knew Danny would have.

"Rafe, weren't you off somewhere two weeks ago? Camping, was it?"

"Uhh, I guess."

"Was it true?" His Ma had turned her laser eyes on; to be on the receiving end of one of those glares was like being under a microscope where every twitch, every hasty denial, every half-truth could be laid bare at ease.

"Yeah, it is." For the second time that day, Rafe was caught off-guard. The last thing he expected was for Danny to suddenly and inexplicably reveal his secret – a secret the depth of which he had no idea of – to his folks; was this some sort of long-awaited chance for retribution for not letting him in on the secret? He was about to come up with a vehement denial when Danny continued what he was saying.

"We had just returned from a hike, which was why we went camping in the first place, when he went down to the river for a swim. I thought it's be funny to hide his clothes when he wasn't looking and then make fun of his memory when he asked about them. I didn't know he was gonna walk back to camp like that."

As his friend spoke, a rainbow-like spectrum of thoughts and emotions flooded through him; gratitude that Danny had his back, shame for ever thinking otherwise and amazement at the way he skilfully played his unsuspecting folks with that appropriately-contrite, wide-eyed look of his. His Ma's gaze had softened somewhat and she was wearing that 'boys will be boys' expression. The tension that had thickened the atmosphere since the waitress claimed to have recognised him bled away, replaced by jokes and stories of similarly silly pranks his Pa once pulled. When she came back with their food, everything had gone back to the way it was before.

As they trailed out of the diner, hunger sated by good food and good conversation, Rafe looped an arm around Danny's shoulders and pulled them back a step or two behind his parents. "You saved my ass back there."

"What else was I gonna do?"

"Thanks."

He should have known, of course, that that was not going to be the end of it; that Danny was like a dog with a bone after that inauspicious encounter and he was not going to rest until he had dug up every aspect of this secret to his satisfaction. After explaining to Stephanie Camden for the umpteenth time that his recent lack of attention had nothing to do with another girl – though it would if she kept this up – he had returned home to find Danny lying on his bed, head pillowed on his forearms, so deeply engrossed in a book that he did not even bother to acknowledge his entrance. Nothing about that was out of the ordinary; no, it was the occasional glance that Danny took of him when he thought Rafe was not looking.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Yeah, right. Come on, I haven't got all day. What is it?"

"Well, ermm…" He looked somewhat embarrassed – no, shy. "Er, Happy Mabon."

"What?" It was no wonder that most other people could not grow close to Danny; every now and again, he spouted some cryptic half-sentence like this which no sane person would have the patience to unravel. "I didn't catch that."

"Happy Harvest Festival."

"Oookay. Happy Harvest Festival to you too."

Danny was looking up at him rather expectantly, like there some other reaction that was due from him. "Okay, I'll bite. What is the Harvest Festival and why is it suddenly on your greetings calendar?"

"It's one of the major Sabbaths of the Druid year. I thought maybe you'd be celebrating or something. Or is it just a so-as-you-feel thing?"

"You're making absolutely no sense, Danny. I've never celebrated a Harvest Festival in my life and don't plan to anytime soon."

Now he looked slightly sheepish. "I just thought that you were, you know, druid or pagan or something like that."

"What made you think that?"

"Well, they have this tradition of praying or whatever in the woods sky-clad. I thought maybe that's what you were doing."

He had never heard of the term sky-clad before, but he was more than capable of putting two and two together to guess what it meant. And then he wanted to laugh. Good God, Danny came up with the funniest things sometimes; his effort to accept and open up to Rafe's supposed change of religion was not at all funny but incredibly touching. He shook his head fondly and said "How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of it? Thanks for trying, really, but this isn't something like that and it's not me getting into trouble. Just give it a rest."

"I had to take a shot at it."

"Yeah, I know. Now promise me you're gonna let it go."

Danny shook his head. "I'm not gonna pry into your secrets, but you can't tell me to ignore what's staring me in the face. I won't."


	4. Destiny Unveiled

i know, two chapters in one go is rather unconventional, but there is something important that one needs to draw attention to. this fic was inspired in part by MissAnnThropic's 'wild by skye' and i want to give her the credit she deserves and thank her for letting me play around with her ideas.

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Danny had no way of knowing, in September when he agreed to stay out of Rafe's secret, that it was all going to unravel in a blood-curdling series of events barely a month later. It was late November, and all of summer's heat had been sapped away and replaced by a thick blanket of snow. The orange and dry world had passed out of memory and winter ruled with an iron fist in a kid glove; where people once complained of the neverending heat, they now spoke of the frost that took the fingers and toes of the unwary. Every now and again school would close but there was no enjoyment to be had from these sudden holidays because there was little to do but stay at home and help out with the chores. There was no flying in the winter, what with all the snow covering the makeshift runway and the sudden changes in wind direction.

It was exactly that which sparked the beginning of this whole mess; a sudden change in wind direction meant that the entire south-east of Tennessee was suddenly and brutally assaulted by the fiercest blizzard that had been seen in a century. Mr and Mrs MacCawley were trapped in the store where they had ironically stopped by to pick up some supplies in case such a thing did happen and called to say that they were fine, do not leave the house.

"D'you think it's gonna die down anytime soon? You know, like a freak storm or something; here without warning, gone in five minutes?"

"It's been up for an hour. Weather forecast says that we're lucky if it dies down sometime in the afternoon tomorrow."

When there was no response, he looked up. Rafe was staring out of the now-translucent window with a troubled expression on his face. It was there for a moment and gone the next, so Danny put it down to concern for his folks and thought nothing of it. However, as the day wore on, Rafe became increasingly jittery; he was constantly looking out of the window, as if hurrying the storm along so that he could go and play. It was that simile that finally clued him in on what was happening and then it was so blatantly obvious that he wondered why it did not occur to him sooner. Rafe wanted to go 'camping'. He had always thought that Rafe chose the day each month on a personal whim, but now it seemed that it might not entirely be within his control. Was he meeting up with someone else and so could not change the date of their rendezvous?

As darkness metaphorically fell, the situation rapidly degenerated. Rafe made no pretence of being comfortable, restlessly checking the weather every now and again, but Jack Frost was working overtime and the blizzard actually worsened as the evening wore on. The gale force winds hurled large chunks of solidified snow against the windows, as if the winter was trying to break into the fire-warmed sanctuary that was the house. Still Rafe kept watch, tirelessly walking from window to window, refusing to sit, eat or even speak beyond the odd monosyllabic response.

"You have to go tonight, don't you?"

That caught Rafe's attention and stilled his twitchiness for a moment; they had, up to that point, a sort of unspoken agreement that the issue of his restlessness was not to be addressed. For a while the conflict that must have been playing out in his head reflected clearly on his face, and then he said "Yeah."

"But you can't, not when snowing like this."

"You don't think I know that?"

"Then why do you look like you're gonna tear the house down if you don't get out? Is someone waiting for you?"

"No," Rafe said exasperatedly "but I have to get out."

It was at that moment that the clock chimed, heralding the midnight hour, like it might have in some theatrical horror movie. Danny had half-formed a cynical comment of sorts when he caught the look on Rafe's face; complete and utter terror. It was not an expression he was used to seeing on his friend, and it scared him too. Whatever his secret was, whatever he said about not being in trouble, it was plain to see that the ramifications of this thing was far worse than he could imagine. Rafe wordlessly sat down by the door, looking like a trapped animal, and Danny crouched in front of him.

"You gonna be okay?"

Rafe remained silent, which said more than he could have with words.

Things went from bad to worse. Rafe had taken to pacing in the kitchen; up and down, up and down almost mechanically as Danny watched helplessly. Despite the sub-zero temperature, he wore only a t-shirt over fraying, thin corduroy pants that in combination would probably reward him with a potent dose of pneumonia. He wondered whether Rafe had been taking drugs, what with the telltale signs he was presenting so clearly; the irritability, the shaking, the beads of sweat that dotted his forehead in the middle of winter. If it was some sort of depressant, he could fend off the withdrawal with the painkillers or sleeping tablets they had in the house. If it was a stimulant, he could probably hold it off with coffee and cough syrup.

Then again, who knew what sort of damage he could be inflicting by introducing a cocktail of drugs into an already battered system? A few articles on the workings of narcotics do not an expert make. Standing around doing nothing, however, was not an option; sweat now ran freely down Rafe's face and the t-shirt clung to him like second skin. Without warning, he stopped in his tracks and peeled it off, barely taking the time to drop it on the floor before continuing to pace.

"What are you on?"

"Huh?"

"Meth? Cocaine?"

"I ain't on drugs."

"You're too fucked up to be lying to me right now."

Rafe cried out in exasperation. "I am not on drugs! Trust me, if I were, you'd have heard about it ages ago. This is different, alright?"

And so it continued. Danny sat at the dining table and watched with a heavy heart while Rafe wore a path down the length of the kitchen. Up and down he went, never once deviating from the straight line he seemed to be walking; his eyes flicked left and right obsessively, as if looking for concealed enemies waiting to pounce. A fine sheen of sweat coated his bare skin and when he passed close enough to the table, Danny could feel the heat rolling off his body. The pants went soon after; seemingly replaced by the shuddering and shaking that made him look all the more like a junkie denied his fix. He picked at the hem of his underwear with fingers that tremble not from the cold, but a more sinister cause. Rafe paced furiously now, as if trying to outpace demons on his heels; demons that he might escape if he walked hard and fast enough.

"Go upstairs."

"What?" The command was ridiculous, but not out of character. Danny had been expecting something of the sort all evening, but to actually hear it was ridiculous. Might as well ask a captain to abandon ship because of a storm.

"Go away. You don't want to see this."

"Look, Rafe, whatever it is, I can help you."

"No, you can't. Ain't nothing nobody can do. Please, I don't want you to see me like this."

It was hard to take the high road at this point, especially with Rafe pleading for understanding, but Danny out his foot down. "I'm not going anywhere."

Rafe did not even respond; the shaking and trembling had become so bad that it was all he could do to stay upright. Sweat ran down his face and back in rivulets, and actually dripped onto the floor where he was standing. He was pale, and without warning, doubled over and groaned, clutching his middle like he was in pain. Danny quickly caught his elbow but Rafe pushed him away and stalked into a corner; he followed, knowing full well that he should call the doctor but not wanting to leave his side to go to the telephone. If the situation was only reversed, he was sure that Rafe would know exactly what to do and that knowledge frustrated him even more. Rafe groaned again and shuddered violently.

Figuring that Rafe had a fever because of the high temperature of his body, Danny ripped the tablecloth off the table and shoved it in the sink. Rafe watched him through glazed eyes, but remained in a heap on the floor. He had never seen his friend so sick before. "C'mon Rafe, hang in there."

Satisfied that the cloth was soaked through, he wrenched it out and draped it over Rafe's overheated body. Rafe moaned loudly and curled in on himself, and Danny felt bad. "It'll make you feel better, man. You gotta get that fever down."

It seemed to help, because the shuddering lessened somewhat and there was a little more clarity in Rafe's eyes. He pulled the soaking cloth around himself and kicked off his underwear. And that was when it happened. For all of the drama all evening, and the time it took to build up to it, it happened rather anti-climatically in the blink of an eye. One moment he was sitting wrapped in the makeshift blanket and the next he was on all fours, growling and covered in fur; and then there was no Rafe at all, but a large wolf stepping out from under the blanket as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It – he – turned and looked him in the eye with its unnatural golden orbs. Danny took a step back and the wolf pounced. For a terrifying moment, he thought that this would be the end of him, but all he felt was the rush of air above his head before hearing a loud crash; the wolf had leapt over him and through the kitchen window. The wind blew right in, covering the kitchen counter with snow, but Danny did not notice it as he stared out into the night of swirling, lifeless white; his only thought was that things were never going to be the same again.

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i know i keep sayin' this, but some constructive criticism would really be welcome at this point.


	5. Sharing and Caring

_When I said that I wasn't going to update until after the 28th, guess what? I lied. Or rather, my muse lied._

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It was with a heavy heart and lead feet that he trudged back to his home, knowing that his dirty secret had finally come to light in the most disastrous manner imaginable. The look of fear in Danny's eyes as he leapt over him for the window kept worming its way back into his thoughts; it made him sick to his stomach to realise that Danny had good reason to fear him. He was a freak, a monster and although a small part of him protested against these labels, Rafe was resigned to the fact that he was an abomination.

He had considered running away many a time during his long trek home, but he was not someone to back down from a fight and he could not cut himself off from everything that meant anything to him without first knowing that he had lost him place amongst them.

Creeping into his house like a common burglar, through the kitchen window, he welcomed the warmth the familiar walls provided against the wintry outdoors, and Rafe felt his heart grow heavy at the thought that he might never feel that way again. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of Danny in the kitchen; one of the things that he had picked up from his other side was the ability to move as silently and stealthily as wolves on a hunt.

Walking into the living room, he was surprised to find a change of clothes waiting for him on the coffee table. Gratefully, he slipped into them and while doing so finally caught sight of his friend. Danny has stretched out on the couch, facing the door, and was now fast asleep in that position; the sight, as well as the obvious good intentions indicated by the clothes, made him feels stupidly hopeful.

Still, he had no real idea how Danny would react to the man/beast thing, and wished uselessly that he could erase the events of last night as easily as wiping chalk off a board. Sitting down on the edge of the table, heart pounding, he made his move.

"Hey Danny, wake up."

The dark-haired boy mumbled something unintelligible and pushed his face deeper into the cushion. Just as Rafe was about to call him again, Danny's eyes sprung open and he practically leapt off the couch. As much as he expected some sort of adverse reaction, that reaction hurt; the idea that his best friend, and the one person he would do anything for, now feared him made him want to shrivel up and die. Rafe leaned back, creating as much room between them as possible in a wordless gesture to establish that he was not a threat.

They sat there in absolute silence for minutes; Rafe nervously perched on the edge of the table and Danny on the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Unsaid words and silent accusations floated around them like dandelions in the afternoon wind until Rafe thought he was going to explode from the pressure. Then Danny spoke.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Rafe was expecting some other question; something about the thing he turned into, so this one left him sputtering for a moment. When did he intend to tell Danny? Was he actually going to keep it a secret forever?

He shrugged and said "I dunno. I was just taking it one day at a time, man."

"So this is a new thing then? I mean, you haven't been…turning for years behind my back?"

"Yeah, it's new."

"Oh." Danny looked like he was taking in the information for a moment, but suddenly stood up and walked towards the kitchen. "I'm sure you're hungry. D'you want breakfast?"

His nonchalance jarred Rafe's train of thoughts like a bum note in the middle of an orchestra. Here was the biggest, most unnatural thing they would ever encounter in their lives, and all Danny was concerned about was breakfast? Rafe wished for understanding and maybe sympathy, but expected fear and suspicion. This lack of reaction fit into neither category and he found himself growing angry; it was not as if he came home with an F for English or something similarly insignificant.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What?"

"You just saw me turn into…into an animal! People don't turn into animals, Danny! Don't you want to know what's going on, huh? Don't you want to know whether I ate someone last night?"

"Did you?"

"No!"

Danny smiled. Rafe could not see what was so amusing, nor did he imagine his friend could be so cruel.

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?"

"Huh?"

"Whenever you come back from your 'camping trips', it's the happiest I've ever seen you. So whatever this is, it's obviously not hurting you, and you're not hurting anyone." His piercing gaze shifted from Rafe to somewhere just behind his shoulder. "I know you're not comfortable talking about this to me, so I'm not gonna push you to. I'll just wait until you are."

Damn if that did not make him feel five kinds of low for ever getting angry, and disgustingly touched at his friend's willingness to understand and accept what he was to the extent that he was letting Rafe call the shots when it came to revealing the truth, nevermind that it almost cost him is life last night. Now there was dust in his eyes; he blinked, trying not to shed tears like some silly girl.

"So, toast?"

"You always burn it. C'mon, I'll do it."

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The blizzard had died down a couple of days ago, but the massive amounts of snow it had brought with it had melted in the sunlight and solidified into sheets of ice thicker than whale blubber on the ground. Walking anywhere was impossible without slipping and sliding on the ice; it was fun to pretend to ice-skate where corn once grew, but after waking up the next morning sporting brilliant purple and blue bruises, the boys had wisely decided to stay in. Danny lay on his stomach on his bed, finishing off some piece of homework or another. Rafe sat on his own bed idly, having nothing to do until the former finished his homework so that it could be copied.

"Ya know, you could try doing it by yourself. You're not completely illiterate."

"And what do you think I keep you around for?"

He got the finger in response.

"Remember the time I told you I was bitten by a big dog?"

"Hmmmhh," Danny answered half-distractedly.

"Hey, this is important. I think that was what did it."

Danny looked up, finally realising what Rafe was talking about. He took a deep breath; this was not easy to speak of, but he needed to start telling Danny about things and he had to start somewhere.

"You mean like a werewolf bite?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Do you only turn when the moon is full or something?"

"Well, I have to change when it is half-moon, which is what it was the night I got bitten. But I can change whenever I want."

There is a glimmer of excitement in Danny's eyes. "So you mean you could change right now?"

"D'you want me to?"

"No…I was just wondering."

Quite unable to believe what he was about to do, Rafe took a deep breath and let the wolf inside him seep into his being for the briefest of moments; his usually hazel eyes now flashed gold, deeper and wilder than human irises could ever look. Danny's eyes widened at the display, but Rafe detected no fear from him, just curiosity. Maybe he was wrong to hide this from Danny for so long; he never knew how big a heart a heart or how unprejudiced his friend could be, and it surprised him to realise that Danny was taking this in stride better than even him. Then again, Danny was not the one turning into a wolf every now and again.

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He should have known that it would cause him problems sooner or later; it was inevitable, like a fire attracting moths. The day before the half-moon, Danny suddenly said "I'm coming with you tomorrow."

It took him by complete surprise; one moment he was folding his socks and humming along to a pretty little tune, and the next moment he had a handful of mismatched socks and an impending headache.

"Uhhh…no?" Shouldn't it be obvious?

"Why not?"

"What the hell would you do? What can you do?"

Danny paused for a moment, and Rafe prayed against the odds that the solution was really as easy as pointing out that Danny had would be bored out of his mind in a forest. It was not.

"I could follow you around, see what it is you do. Maybe I'll carry around a change of clothes so that you don't give random waitresses an eyeful."

"No." Why was it so hard for him to understand? Rafe did not want to say it, because it was the one part of this change that he thought replusive, but his firend left him no choice. "I saw you flinch that night when I looked in your direction, and man, that was the smartest reaction you've had to this whole thing. It's not like we're talking about Lassie here. What if I eat you?"

Danny smiled softly, as though he knew something Rafe did not, and could not understand even if he were told. "You won't eat me."

It was then that Rafe knew there was only one way to phrase things so that Danny would lose the misbegotten idea. "Look, I'm not asking you to stay out of any great concern for you. I don't want your blood on my hands. Do you understand?"

His harsh words were followed by a pregnant pause, in which neither boy gave up any ground. Finally, Danny sighed and said "Fine."

"Promise?"

That got him an eye-roll from the younger boy. "I promise I'll stay here."

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_Reviews are needed, people! Some constructive criticism would be nice; one is never too old to improve :)_


	6. The Boy Who Cried Wolf

_hi y'all!_

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Whilst winter had crept over the land and slowly squeezed the life from it, spring burst forth like many of the colourful blooms poking their heads out of the frosty ground; full of life, vibrant and the embodiment of hope and renewal. Birdsong filled the air again. People began shedding their thick, woollen and shapeless garments for clothes that reflected the season. It was not much, a red scarf here, a shirt and vest combination instead of a pullover there, but its effect was to create cheer amongst a community that had been through one of the harshest winters in memory. Yes, winter would be back soon enough, but for now, there was fun to be had and merry to be made.

It was on such a spring morning that the MacCawley family sat down to a typical breakfast; pancakes and syrup, toast and bacon. Coffee for the adults and orange juice for the school-going boys. It was Danny's favourite time of the day; Cole was not normally conscious for breakfast, and the love and goodwill that floated around the breakfast table was something he never got to experience before joining the MacCawleys. On this particular morning, however, the conversation took a turn into dangerous territory.

Mrs. MacCawley took a bite from her toast and said "I saw Giles yesterday buying a rifle. It's too early for hunting, isn't it?"

Cole shook his head. "It's not for deer. He says there are wolves around."

It was good fortune that Danny was not drinking at that moment, because he would have choked. Looking up, he caught sight of Rafe's slightly widened eyes.

"Wolves? There haven't been wolves here since I was a girl."

"That's what I told him, but he insists they're back and it's a matter of time before they get into his herd. Says he's gonna get them before that."

"That's not fair." Everybody turned to him; he did not normally speak out at the table, and interrupting conversations was certainly out of character for him. Danny could no more hold his tongue on this than grow wings and fly. "I mean, even if the wolves are back, healthy wolves don't attack livestock. There's no need to go around shooting them."

"But we don't know why they're here. Maybe they're sick, or hurt. What if they attack someone? Giles lives on the edge of the woods, Danny. He can't afford to take chances."

He was about to argue his point when Rafe suddenly kicked him under the table. The blonde-haired boy took a large bite of his pancake and said "Yeah, well, Mr. Giles has always been a bit…off-centre. I wouldn't be surprised if the wolf was someone's dog. Still, couldn't hurt to be prepared."

Mr. MacCawley nodded his assent, and Mrs. MacCawley chided her son for speaking with his mouth full.

Danny knew what his friend was doing, changing the subject like this. He was uncomfortable talking about wolves and such, especially since the wolf that Mr. Giles saw was sitting right there at the table with them. Still, it was a worrying development; what if there were more people like that, trigger-happy farmer-hunters, who had spotted him? What if they were lying in wait, with traps and guns, for the wolf to make its next reappearance? There was no way he was going to convince Rafe not to go, and there was no way of making sure that in his wolf-form, he didn't stray too close to the edges of the woods.

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The night before the half-moon, Rafe hurried to finish his schoolwork, but hummed happily under his breath; his friend's lack of concern about Giles worried him all the more. He was not taking the threat seriously at all, and Danny could not help but think of all the things that could go wrong and feel a more than a little frustrated at his inability to do anything.

"Hey, Rafe, d'you think maybe you could not go to the forest this time?"

"Sure. I'll just go to the moon, or you know, whatever." He did not even have to look up to deliver his sarcastic comment.

"Why must you be so difficult?" He was starting to get annoyed at Rafe's refusal to recognise the problem that was staring them in the face. "You want to get shot?"

Rafe sighed and dropped his pencil. "Then where do you want me to go?"

"Maybe you could just run around the field here? I mean, you only change after midnight, and your parents sleep way before that, so I don't see a problem with you staying close to the house. It's not like anyone else lives close by."

"You know what the problem with that is? What if my Ma decides to stay up tomorrow? What if my Pa suddenly wants water in the middle of the night? What if they wake up early?"

Rafe was listing every random scenario he could think of, and Danny pointed it out to him. "The chances of that are next to nothing."

"But they're not nothing. I'm not taking any chances here."

Danny scrubbed a hand over his face wearily; he understood why Rafe was willing to risk being shot instead of accepting the substantially-less risky option of staying near the house. He loved his parents too much to face the possibility that they might not be able to accept him the way he was; he could not expect them to, simply because he could barely accept what he was himself. It was a vicious cycle of insecurity that fed on itself, and Danny found himself wishing, not for the last time, that there was something he could do to take that burden away from his friend.

Rafe must have sensed his despair, because his features softened and he said "Look, I'll go deeper into the woods this time so that there's less chance of me straying near Giles, alright? S'not like I have a death wish."

"Sometimes I wonder."

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It was ten o'clock, and Mr. and Mrs. MacCawley had already turned in for the night, not knowing that their son had stolen away from the house to turn into a wolf; he had been gone for a good half-hour already. Danny sat cross-legged on the floor, trying and failing to concentrate on writing an essay about the consequences of the collapse of the Roman Empire; he found himself worrying about the very things that haunted Rafe – whether the McCawleys would somehow discover that he was not at home. What was Danny going to say? What if they decided to wait up for him and he traipsed in stark naked? More sinister thoughts soon found their way into his psyche, courtesy of second-hand hunting stories, too many books and a hyperactive imagination; he imagined the sort of traps hunters laid and what they did to the poor animals that wandered onto them. If something happened to Rafe as a wolf…the thought crawled into a corner of his mind to die a lonely death. Nothing was going to happen.

That was right. Nothing was going to happen – because he was going to be there to stop it from happening.

Decision made, Danny abandoned his paper and scrambled around the room, trying to itemise what he would need and pack it at the same time. A flashlight was a necessity, and he spent 2 minutes looking for extra batteries before writing the search off as thwarted by Murphy's Law. The flashlight went into his duffle, along with a jacket and a change of clothes for Rafe. Mindful that every moment he spent in the house was a moment less that he could use to find Rafe, Danny quickly slipped out through the window and ran across the field, hoping that the MacCawleys would sleep soundly that night. He may be able to blame Rafe's absence on a girlfriend, but his own disappearance would be much more difficult to explain; if the Mrs. MacCawley suspected that something was up, that would be the end of it for them, for she was like a dog with a bone and had astute powers of observation. No more sneaking out for them, and then all hell would literally break loose.

As he approached the woods, Danny felt for a moment that he was in over his head; had he actually been arrogant enough to think that he could locate a single wolf in a whole forest? Just as he was about to despair at the futility of the exercise, Danny realised where the fault in his logic was; he was not here to find Rafe. He was here to make sure that he did not stray too close to the edges of the woods, where Giles and goodness-knows-who else were waiting for him. All that he had to do was keep watch near the edges of the woods, and if Rafe happened to show up there, find a way to usher him back into the woods. If he never saw Rafe all night, it would mean that he could trust Rafe's ability to stay out of trouble. With a new sense of purpose, he started the trek to Giles' property, accompanied by the glow of accomplishment and, unbeknownst to him, a shadow in the dark.

The flashlight came in handy as he wandered into the fringes of the woods; while the half-moon was enough to illuminate his path through the fields, the pale quicksilver beams could not penetrate the thick underbrush that formed much of the woods. He could still pick his way through the underbrush, but it was impossible to see what lay under his feet without some other form of lighting, and it would be the height of silliness if he were to step into a trap by accident. Rafe, for one, would never let him forget it. Nevertheless, it was proving to be a strangely enjoyable sort of night out; the relative darkness sharpened his senses to the point where he was aware of his own heartbeat and the sound of his breaths. There were insects making all sorts of insect-y sounds and every now and again a frog called out, though whether it was to his mate or to just for the fun of hearing his own voice Danny knew not.

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It was not until much later that Danny became aware of a presence close to his; he stopped in his tracks for a moment, trying to discern whether it was nothing more than an insect or something larger. Maybe it was a badger or a hedgehog, out hunting in the moonlight. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the critter, he switched the flashlight off and pressed his back to a tree, trying to diminish his presence so as not to frighten the animal away. A short while later, he heard the sound of something substantially larger than an insect approaching; it made a sort of snuffling, dragging sound, which led him to the conclusion that it was indeed a badger. The moonlight was very weak in the thicket, which meant that he could barely see his hand when he held it in front of his face. Waiting until he could hear the badger walk directly in front of him, Danny pointed the flashlight in its direction and flipped the switch.

His heart stopped.

Caught in the orange beam of light was not a badger, but the most horrifying sight he had ever seen in his 16 years of life, which now looked likely to come to an abrupt and very painful end.

It was a wolf. Not Rafe, but a grey wolf with yellow eyes and a limp tail. That was not what made it frightening; it was the foam that bubbled from its mouth, tinged with pink, and the madness in its eyes that must be caused by the bleeding, infected stump that was its right foreleg.

Danny stood frozen where he was, terrified beyond movement. He would have screamed if he was capable of making a single sound. His legs felt like jelly, and the only reason he remained standing was the tree at his back. One part of him felt sorry for the poor animal, who must have stumbled onto one of Giles' traps, but another part recognised that in its maddened state, it posed a threat to his life that looked likely to materialise. The beam of light shining in its face seemed to hold the wolf back for the time being, so Danny kept the torch pointed at him. The snuffling sound that he earlier assumed was a badger's call turned out to be its ragged gasps, and more pink-tinged foam dripped from its mouth.

Then the inevitable happened. The wolf took a step forward, a low growl emanating from its chest, looking very much like death personified. Danny did not know whether he should stop agitating the wolf by continuing to shine the light in its face, or if that was the only thing that was keeping it at bay. No normal wolf would attack a stationary victim, and the best course of action when dealing with vicious canines was simply to stop moving. The wildcard in this equation, however, was the fact that this wolf was sick and most likely mad.

It took yet another step forward, and this time bared its fangs. He could see that some of its teeth were chipped and bleeding; a souvenir of the ordeal it must have suffered in the trap. For a moment he felt a surge of anger at the sort of person who could subject an innocent and beautiful animal to such pointless cruelty, and in that moment of weakness, the wolf lunged.

The next moment saw him flying through the woods, guided only by the dim moonlight, as fast as his legs could carry him; he had dropped the flashlight in panic. Branches and things whipped at his face and many a time he stumbled over obstacles hidden in the dark underbrush, but he did not stop and he did not slow down, because he could feel it behind him. Run as he might, a sixteen year old boy was no match for a wolf, wounded or not, and he could hear it gaining on him. Danny could almost feel its fetid breath on his skin, feel it snapping at his heels; it would only a matter of seconds before this game came to an end.

His grim prediction never came to pass. So concerned was he about the devil at his back that he forgot to pay attention to where he was going; one moment he was running through dirt, and the next, his foot connected with air where there should have been solid ground. The forest shelf gave way to a steep incline; it was not impossible to walk down, but the momentum of his frantic pace pitched him headlong over the edge.

Danny had not the slightest chance to grab onto something, anything, to slow the pace of his descent; he just rolled, somersaulting almost comically down the incline over bracken and forest debris. It could not be good, he realised detachedly, to be thrown over sticks and stones like this, even though he felt no pain at the moment. The rushing sound in his ears grew louder and louder, and it was only when he fell into icy-cold wetness that he realised it was that the sound of a river that flowed at the bottom of the incline.

It was not a deep river by any means; in fact, it took only a few kicks in the right direction before he was flopped face-down on the riverbank, wet, cold and out of breath. His heart still drummed too fast, but it was nowhere near the frenetic thumping it was merely moments ago, and the wolf was nowhere to be seen. Deciding not to push his luck, in case the rabid animal was making its way down here, Danny pushed himself upon his arms.

Or tried to. Pain lanced up his right side, effectively killing any thought of similar movement anytime soon. His vision, limited at best in the near-pitch darkness, failed for a moment and he thought that he was going to pass out. Unfortunately, the pain did not lessen – it burned with every breath, making him wish he could curl up with agony. The cold water did nothing to numb the pain; it only served to make him uncomfortable all over.

This was bad. He was, quite literally, fucked. If he just lay here, there was a good chance that something would wander along soon enough and eat him; this was cougar territory after all. If nothing ate him, hypothermia would soon set it in and before that eventually killed him, the pain in his side would have driven him out of his mind. Perhaps being eaten was not such a bad outcome after all.

No one knew he was here. No one would look for him.

The ragged sound of his own breaths jarred in the quiet surroundings of the forest; he was making too much noise than was wise, and the wolf should have no trouble finding him now. No sooner did the thought cross his mind than he heard the sound of something approaching. An attempt to hold his breath yielded nothing but more pain, but for the small moment that it succeeded, he heard it; the almost silent breaths of whatever animal approached. Even in his half-conscious state, Danny realised that it was not the wolf that chased him down the incline. This animal was healthy. It was on the hunt. Vaguely he wondered whether it was part of the same pack as the mad wolf and knew that it did not matter if it was a healthy wolf, because he was crippled and therefore fair game. Survival of the fittest and all that.

Trying one last time to move only made clear that he was not going anywhere, since he could literally feel his ribs shift under his skin every time he tried to move his arms. The crack of a twig from the left drew his attention, and he looked up to see a shadow emerge from a cluster of trees not ten feet away. It plainly obvious that it was not the mad wolf; its movements were deliberate and silent, and it was much bigger. The wolf moved out of the shadows and walked through a shaft of moonlight, allowing him a glimpse of its dark, shaggy coat and its unmistakeably golden eyes.

_tbc_

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_heh...that was rather nasty of me, leaving the chappie hanging like that. still, drop me a review and make my day, whaddaya say?_


	7. The Boy Who Cried Wolf II

_hi y'all! I know I promised a quick update, but RL got the better of me. Anyways, here it is..._

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Recap_: Trying one last time to move only made clear that he was not going anywhere, since he could literally feel his ribs shift under his skin every time he tried to move his arms. The crack of a twig from the left drew his attention, and he looked up to see a shadow emerge from a cluster of trees not ten feet away. It plainly obvious that it was not the mad wolf; its movements were deliberate and silent, and it was much bigger. The wolf moved out of the shadows and walked through a shaft of moonlight, allowing him a glimpse of its dark, shaggy coat and its unmistakeably golden eyes. _

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For the short moment before his brain caught up with his heart, Danny felt a rush of hope. Rafe was here. Rafe would take care of things, he always did.

Then the dark wolf bared its fangs and growled; a deep, low rumble that emanated from its throat and allowed no illusions as to its nature. His heart sank so fast that it almost made him sick. This was exactly what Rafe was afraid of, and his friend's words came back to him.

"… I don't want your blood on my hands…"

Danny did not want to die, but he was well aware of the fact that if Rafe did kill him in this form, he was the luckier of the two. The older boy would never be able to get over his guilt and self-loathing if such a thing did happen, and if only for that reason, he could not allow it to happen. Again, he cursed himself for not listening to Rafe, for his stubbornness, which now looked likely to hurt them both. Desperate, he pulled himself completely out of the water and half-crawled away from the approaching wolf.

"Rafe, it's me."

Every word took strength he did not have to spare, but to no avail. The wolf showed no sign of recognising him as it stepped closer and he was again caught in a losing game of cat and mouse as he backpedalled helplessly along the riverbank.

"Rafe, man, I know you can hear me. Stop, please."

Suddenly, the wolf lunged at him. It must have happened quicker than a flash, but to his eyes it seemed like it was all taking place in slow-motion; the wolf's graceful leap through the air, fangs bared and claws prepared, golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight. It knocked the air out of him when it landed on him, and Danny felt the weight of the beast almost press him down into the earth. He put his arms up around his face and neck in a pathetic attempt at a struggle, hoping at least to reduce the chances of the wolf catching his throat in a killing blow. So focused was Danny on prolonging his survival that he did not notice that the wolf had stepped off him almost as soon as it landed. Indeed, it was now standing over him, still growling, eyes fixed on something that was over his line of sight. He dared to turn around for a moment, in an attempt to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that agitated the wolf so, and noticed something moving within the cover of the trees that lined the bank. He could not see what it was, nor could he hear anything apart from this wolf's growls, but Danny was certain that whatever it was out there had probably been expecting an easy meal.

So he lay there, propped up on his elbows, under the protective form of the wolf, until the latter stopped its engine-like rumbling and gracefully stepped away from him. Whatever animal it was in the woods must have decided that it was not worth fighting the large wolf for the prospect of a meal; the thought made him smile a little. Since Rafe was the chief jock and therefore highest member of the pecking order in school, it made perfect sense that he would be right on top of the food chain in his wolf-form. More importantly, Rafe had protected him, as usual, even though he was not even human at the moment. He was safe.

The realisation brought with it such weariness and exhaustion that he sunk back into the soft, wet ground, suddenly aware of the blossoming pain in his side. His wet hair clung uncomfortably to his forehead, and when he reached up to brush it away, his fingers came back wet and warm with what could only be blood. With that realisation came an overwhelming sense of defeat; why should he bother trying when the odds were so clearly stacked against him? More than a little relieved at finding an excuse to let go, Danny sighed and let his eyes close.

"Hey Rafe," he whispered, not knowing whether the wolf could understand him, but not really caring either. "I'm gonna sleep for a while, okay?"

He took a quick glance at the wolf, who stood by his side looking just as ominous as ever, but felt no fear. Rafe was not a Labrador to pet and manhandle; he was wolf, and despite the fact that some part of him recognised Danny, he was as wild as the wind that blew through the trees. While he would not hurt him, Danny knew that it was unreasonable to expect him to come to him, tail wagging and begging to be petted, and that was his last thought before slipping into the darkness.

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Wetness.

That was what woke him from his unplanned slumber. Danny wondered how he managed to get wet in bed before remembering that he was very, very far from anything that could remotely be called a bed.

Rafe.

He forgot for a moment just how battered his body was, and sat up. It was testament to how numb the cold had made him that the resulting pain was somewhat bearable. For a while he saw nothing but darkness as his eyes adjusted to the meagre lighting afforded by the moonlight. The wolf was not in sight, and Danny was about to reach the conclusion that Rafe must have left when he caught a glimpse of those golden eyes watching him from the cover of the trees; the sight of which brought him a overwhelming measure of relief and gratitude. It was instinct that made him view the wolf as his guardian, despite the fact that any normal person would instinctively view such an animal in such circumstances as a threat; but this was the same Rafe who tried so very hard to protect him from everything despite being little more than a teenager himself. The same Rafe who had taken him under his wing when no one else would. The same Rafe whom he could not let down, not like this.

Taking advantage of the numbness, he pushed himself up onto his feet, all the while keeping an eye on the wolf, who in turn appeared to be keeping an eye on him. Danny would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if not for the fact that his legs were not listening to his brain; this attempt to walk left him looking like a colt learning to use its overlong and not-particularly-strong legs. The trouble he faced wobbling away from the riverbank made getting home from here seem impossible, so he focused all of his thoughts and energy into putting one foot in front of the other; it made what he was trying to do seem less monumental.

Danny looked up to see the dark figure of the wolf standing a few feet away from him on the incline, watching him. Without thinking, he veered in the direction of the wolf, only to see the lupine move just out of his grasp as he came closer. Not one to give up easily, he hobbled forward, and the wolf yet again moved just out of his reach. Just as he was about to curse his friend, Danny realised what he was doing; he was leading him up the incline, and hopefully, out of the forest. In his wolf form, because of his superior senses, Rafe would be able to pick out the path of least resistance. Guided by the wolf, his journey back up the incline was far less of a disaster than his descent; then again, almost anything would be better than that. The wolf bounded up the terrain effortlessly, and Danny imagined how frustrating it must be for the agile and sure-footed animal to wait for him when it could have conquered the incline a hundred times over in that time.

The very sticks, stones and plants that had so bruised him on his way down now provided him with handholds and footholds to leverage his way up. This was not to say that the ascent could remotely be described as easy; his chest burned with the mere effort of drawing breath and everytime he reached out to grab hold of a branch, it felt like what he supposed being stabbed in the side felt like. The side of his face was wet and sticky with what he pretended was sweat, and tried very hard not to think of the fact that he had not the slightest chance to make it out of the forest before his body succumbed to its wounds.

With one last graceful bound, the wolf leapt from the highest, almost concave point of the incline onto the flat edge of the forest plateau above it. Gracelessly, Danny followed, scrabbling up the edge on hands and knees were poor sunlight penetration had allowed the flourishing of lichen. It took all of his strength and energy to pull himself up onto the ledge, and when he finally flopped onto the flat ground he thought he saw what might have been a flash of pity in those golden eyes. It made him somewhat indignant as he slowly rose to his feet; he had managed to drag himself up a small cliff with broken ribs, for God's sake. He deserved applause, not pity. Wallowing in that indignation, he took several steps forward before his legs gave way and crashed face first into the underbrush. He managed to roll over onto his back and saw a sliver of moonlight peeking through the trees before slipping once more into darkness.

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Something wet and cold touched his cheek, immediately startling him into wakefulness. Danny opened his eyes to see the black wolf standing by his side, nose pressed against his cheek, nudging him gently. He lifted a hand to touch the wolf, but the animal immediately backed away. It took several tries for him to say "Hey, Rafe", and even then his voice was soft and hoarse. It was still dark, still cold and still devoid of any sign of human life, and he despaired of ever seeing the light of day. Out here in the wilderness, spring's tender touch was missing and it made him aware of how much of the apparent change of season was wrought by human inventions like heaters, roads and buildings. Out here, frost still covered ground which human feet trod not; survival was not guaranteed, but fought for at the expense of energy, blood and life itself. It was very easy to complain about hunters not respecting wildlife and human encroachment at the breakfast table, but being stuck here, in pain and incapacitated, made him wonder why no safety measures were in place in case something like this happened. Surely the preservation of human life warranted at least a trail or the odd clearing in the woods.

Shivers wracked his lithe frame and he could hear his teeth chattering more than he actually felt it. As he curled into a ball to try and preserve some warmth, the wolf sat on its haunches in front of him, and Danny could see both concern and sympathy in its distinctive golden eyes. A more lucid, cynical part of him laughed at the notion; it was probably a delusion brought on by hypothermia, blood loss, exhaustion or a myriad of other things he could be suffering from. Rafe sat close enough for him to reach out and touch, but he knew that to actually do so would only serve to drive him away.

It was only when he opened his eyes to the sight of Rafe lying down where he was once sitting, head neatly pillowed on his forelegs, that Danny realised he must have lost consciousness once again; he had not an idea how much time had passed since he first entered the forest, nor how much longer his friend was to be trapped in this form. Detachedly, he realised that he was still shivering, that he could no more stand than he could grow wings and fly and that the funny taste on his lips was the copper tang of blood. He was not a pessimist or weak-willed, but he was not stupid either, and he knew that he was not going to make it through the night. Admitting that fact to himself, for the first time since this ordeal began, made him want to cry. It was so unfair. He never hurt anyone. He never asked for anything from life apart from being allowed to live. Why didn't people like Giles die like this? Why him?

But at least, he thought, at least he did not have to die alone. Rafe lay close by, so close that he could see each individual whisker on his muzzle and every slight twitch of his nose, watching him tirelessly. Such beautiful eyes, he thought, remembering how most people were normally drawn to his eyes. They were nothing compared to the fierce thirst for life reflected in those molten gold irises.

"Hey, Rafe," he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'm just not strong enough."

If the wolf understood what he was saying, it made no indication to acknowledge him. Cold, exhausted and in pain, Danny dragged himself closer to the wolf than he would have dared before this. Common sense made him pause for a moment before further acting, but in that moment of desperation, despair and pain, Danny's faith in Rafe won out over self-preservation instincts; he wrapped his arms around the wolf's enormous shoulders, seeking and finding a warm refuge. He buried his head in the wolf's shaggy neck and leant further against the soft, silky fur that met his cold hands and warmed them. When Rafe lifted his great big wolf head off his forelegs and laid it on his chest, much like a pet dog watching over its charge, Danny closed his eyes and gave in to the darkness, content in the knowledge that he was loved.

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Something was moving, and as Danny slowly returned to consciousness, the first thing that registered was surprise that he was not yet dead. The second was that Rafe was getting up and moving away.

"No, wait, come back," he said, reaching out with one hand. He could not follow the wolf, not in this state. The trick that he had played earlier to get him up the ridge could not possibly work now. As his friend bounded away and disappeared into the shadows, it became clear that he was actually leaving. Maybe he finally realised that he was not going to make it, and in that practical way of animals, decided to spend his time pursuing something more worthwhile. Then he heard it; a snuffling sound, and a variety of others as well. Could it be the mad wolf, and its pack? Perhaps it had gathered them and come to attack; Rafe was big, but even he could not hold off an entire wolf pack. It was a good thing, then, that he had made his escape. Danny steeled himself, although he could feel his fingers trembling with something other than the cold, and looked up; he would look death in the eye.

Death, who came crashing through the underbrush like he had nothing to fear, was an Alsatian with a bright blue collar. He barked a joyous greeting when he came within sight of the prone figure on the ground, and Danny wondered if the events of the night had driven him stark raving mad. And then he remembered where he had seen the dog before. It was Giles' dog, who had been christened Dog by his granddaughter; barely a minute later, the old man came stumbling out from the shade of the trees, huffing and panting as he waved his shotgun around. Danny smiled a little between Dogs' generous licks as the man's eyes widened in surprise and tried to think of something appropriately smart-ass to say.

Giles knelt by his side, quickly surveying the damage in the dim glow of the lightening sky. Maybe he'd live to see the sunrise after all. "Stay still, boy, I'll get you outta here." He patted Snuggles. "Atta boy, Dog. Sit."

The Alsatian looked towards the thicket of trees and whined, but stayed by his master's side. Danny shifted as much as his battered body would let him and looked in the direction that Dog was barking; within the trees, masked by shadow and darkness, staring right back at him, was a pair of golden eyes.

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well, whaddaya think? I've been so nice to give y'all such a lovely helping of brotherliness (is that even a word?), so why don't you drop me a line and let me know what you thought of it. REVIEW!

:)


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